


No one thinks you're strange

by goseaward



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-09
Updated: 2009-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if his day hasn't been bad enough, Kris gets to the show and finds out that Megan is so sick she can't perform.  For the kink meme prompt "Adam as Fiyero (Or Kris, that could be interesting~), etc."</p>
            </blockquote>





	No one thinks you're strange

As if his day hasn't been bad enough, Kris gets to the show and finds out that Megan is so sick she can't perform.

"Don't worry," Paula says, poking her head into the tiny shack that's Kris's dressing room (and Matt's and Danny's). At least they get one--Burnout Theatre doesn't have a large budget, or an actual theatre, for that matter; they perform outside and the audience brings picnic blankets. "Amy is very, very good."

"Has she ever performed the role?" Kris asks as he shrugs into his costume. He decides not to mention that "very, very good" can't be used to describe the lead roles, so there's no chance it applies to somebody from the ensemble--especially somebody from the ensemble that Kris has never noticed except for the height and the occasional too-wacky dance move. Burnout Theatre is supposed to be a joke about the desert, but it works just as well as a description of its employees.

"No, but she's a capable actress and a fine singer," Paula says. The worst part is that she believes it.

Kris nods. "It'll be fine."

Paula smiles at him and lets the door swing closed.

Kris wonders what Katy would say about this latest development. They've been broken up for months, ever since Kris agreed to come to Nevada for this job, but today was one of the days she'd decided to call and berate him for shits and giggles. No matter how many times Kris explains that this is the best he can do--he is the romantic lead, which describes the quality pretty well--she still believes he should be making it much bigger, with his own music if not in theatre. Kris finds it endearing that she's still his cheerleader even though she's apparently working her way through every unmarried guy in their church.

"You guys know Amy at all?" Kris asks a few minutes later.

Matt and Danny shake their heads. "She doesn't hang out with us after the show," Matt says. "I've seen her talking with Paula, though, maybe they know each other?"

Kris nods. That would make sense, but it's also bad--Paula is the type who would assign understudies based on personal connections rather than ability, and the ones she picked based on ability are no great talents. She's a brilliant choreographer, but her personnel skills leave a lot to be desired. The understudies haven't even had a proper rehearsal. Kris pushes up from the chair and goes to find Amy. He should figure out her energy before he has to go fall in love with her for an audience.

She hasn't taken Megan's place in the dressing room, which is a little odd; instead she's resting in a hammock, dabbing green makeup between her fingers. There isn't a place for Kris to sit, so he stands awkwardly in front of her. "Hey," he says, "I'm Kris Allen. I play Fiyero."

"I know," Amy says. Her voice is curiously breathy and very low. "Don't worry, I don't suck."

"Wasn't worried," Kris says. He rocks on his heels.

"Bullshit, but whatever."

Kris frowns. "I just wanted to say hi."

Amy puts the sponge back into the little bowl of green and spreads her fingers wider, letting the makeup set. "Hi."

"Okay, maybe I should--"

"Did I see you with a guitar last week?"

"Um." Kris shoves his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I haven't decided if I'm destined for, you know, musical theatre obscurity or singer-songwriter obscurity."

Amy doesn't smile, but her attention sharpens, eyes going to Kris's face. "I do some original stuff too," she says. "We should get together sometime and jam."

"Okay," Kris says, already thinking of ways out of it. Amy rubs him in all the wrong ways. "Break a leg tonight."

"Yeah, thanks, you too." She picks up the sponge and starts working on her other hand, like she's already forgotten Kris is there.

***

Even for Burnout Theatre, Amy's first few minutes onstage are rocky. She's over six feet tall, with a nose that could kindly be called fucking huge, and even the green paint can't hide that something strange is going on. On top of that, her speaking voice is too odd to be heard easily--although Kris isn't at a prime place for listening, hidden behind one of the set pieces on the edge of the performance area. Amy's attempts at a hurt expression just make him giggle. The first few notes of "The Wizard and I" have a strange nasal quality to them, too, and Kris is getting more and more depressed about tonight's performance. But then Amy starts to get louder, and by the time she's onto "No one thinks you're strange," she has the whole audience in her pocket--she's clearly ten times the singer of anyone else in the cast. Kris tries to figure out what the hell she's been doing in the chorus for a month, and what the hell is wrong with him that he never noticed her.

Once the audience starts to pay attention to her, Amy blossoms, with a stage presence lighting the area brighter than the floodlights. Kris isn't sure how much he has to fake falling in love with her, and despite her size, he can barely wait for their duet. He feels on fire; he's never sung like he's singing right now, Amy's wide grey-blue eyes not letting him go, spurring him to higher flights of musicality. He grabs her for the last hug, pulls them together knees to chest, and--

Well, suddenly he understands why she's in the chorus. At least it's nice to know she's as excited by this onstage chemistry as he is.

He drags her into the dressing room after the show after letting Matt and Danny know they're not allowed. Amy takes Danny's chair and watches Kris with a far too innocent expression on her face.

"You're too good to keep trying for female roles," Kris says. "You said you do solo stuff?"

"I don't want to keep going for female roles," Amy says. She drops her voice into a lower register, and it's more powerful there--Kris realizes the breathiness was an attempt to sound more feminine.

Kris pauses. "You're not trans?"

"No." Amy starts poking through the things on Matt's dressing table, comes up with a bottle of the goop they use to take off the silver paint.

"Then why are you--"

Amy pours some onto a cotton pad and starts working on her--his face. "Got blacklisted by a director in L.A. Paula agreed to hire me, but she won't risk him knowing she did."

"What is this, Tootsie?" Kris drops into his chair and watches him.

Amy puts down the cotton pad and glares at Kris, long stripes of pale skin showing through the green. "Did you seriously just compare me to Dustin Hoffman?"

"No! I just, you know. You're so good. Why are you here?"

Amy shrugs. "Better than retail."

"You're crazy."

"Yeah." Amy resumes taking off his makeup.

Danny comes barging through the door, apparently done waiting, and gives Amy a curious look. Kris sighs in frustration and starts to strip off his costume.

***

It takes one more performance with Megan for Kris to realize he's better than this--he's not sure when his standards got so low, but listening to Amy made him remember why he decided to be a musician in the first place.

Amy is avoiding him, so it takes four more days for Kris to wheedle his real name and address from Paula. He shows up unannounced on their next day off. Adam opens the door, and Kris breathes in--he's breathtaking, a longish shock of black hair and eyes highlighted with smudged black liner. The nose is still big, but less obviously so than when it was painted green.

"I'm going to L.A.," Kris says.

Adam smiles at him. "Right now?"

"Yeah. I think I'm better than this," Kris says, "and I know you are. Do you want to come with me?"

"Is that your car?"

Kris turns around and looks at the clunker sitting in Adam's driveway. "Yes?"

Adam pretends to hesitate for a moment, but Kris can tell he's pretending. "Let me pack," he says. "Wait here." He disappears inside, reappears ten minutes later with a duffel bag over his shoulder, yelling goodbye into the house. "All right, Kris. Ready?"

Kris smiles. "You have no idea."

Adam hefts the duffel and walks off to the car. Kris adjusts his sunglasses and follows, feeling right for the first time in years.


End file.
